Everyone Loves a Sick Fic
by stepherrrs
Summary: It was a quiet night when Jack Frost caught the flu, not to mention one that was cold and dark and not quite comforting.


It was a quiet night when Jack Frost caught the flu, not to mention one that was cold and dark and not quite comforting. Shaking bones veiled thinly by skin were latched onto a blanket when the symptoms first arrived, though they became more pressing as the night drew on. Eventually, those shivering hands curled around the only warm thing that they could find, which just so happened to be someone else.

At first Hiccup, who had been the victim of Jack's desperate need for warmth, thought that it was some ploy to wake him up and be a shit. However, when he went to push the usually cold body away from him, his fingers were grasping at feverish skin. With bleary eyes just barely blinking open, Hiccup felt at Jack's forehead and then made the faulty connection that Jack was sick. "Jack," He whispered, then repeated, louder, hoping to rouse him, "Jack!"

It was few and far between that Jack would ever sleep next to Hiccup, and tonight the Viking boy had went to sleep with his bed particularly lacking in the Frost department. Waking up beside him in this scenario was more than a little boggling—the guy was supposed to be immortal—and not to mention a tad scary. He detangled the sheets from his limbs and doubled them over Jack's trembling form. Jack's legs were curled tight to his chest and he was emitting a whining sound that made Hiccup lean _just a bit _closer to make sure it was him. Although, being his unfortunate self, that was met with a hacking cough and then, if you listened close enough, quiet, tiny laughter. Hiccup sat down hard and blinked.

Jack opened one eye first, burdened by dark circles and sickly green paleness, and smiled. Hiccup returned a frown, and shook his head, his hands doing most of the talking, as he said, "You're sick, Jack. How are you even sick? Aren't you supposed to be immune to this? You live forever, and you—you can get _sick_?"

"Didn't your dad ever teach you not to ask sick people questions?" Jack mumbled, turning over and toeing at the floor, trying to put weight on his legs to stand. He made a valiant effort to get up, swooshing the blanket behind him like a cape, then grunted and fell back on the bed. "I don't feel so great."

"That…" Hiccup started when Jack stood up, and when he fell ended with, "Was a dumb idea. Where are you planning on going?"

"I don't know, I just… I thought you were going to be mad or something…You wouldn't want me here, I'm sick." Jack grumbled, feeling at the little stringy ends of the little, stringy blanket. "I crawled into bed with you… That was weird."

"That was a little weird."

"I thought you'd maybe, I don't know… want me to go away…" He shrugged, shoving his face in a pillow and sniffling.

"Are you, uh… crying?"

"What?" Jack's face immediately reappeared from the fluff of the pillow and he squinted, skin clear of any moisture whatsoever. He sniffed again and shook his head bewilderedly. "I'm sick."

"I know, uh." Hiccup said and shook his head, getting off of the bed and walking over to the door. "Let me get you some soup."

"Yeah, soup." Jack curled in on himself, nodding off and snuggling into the pillow he was currently latched onto, soft sniffles and breathing emanating from him like a warm, sick aura. It had been mere minutes when Hiccup came back, juggling a tray and a big bowl and a pitcher of water. "Good morning."

But time was obviously a little blurry to Jack. Hiccup put everything down on the table aside his bed and then tugged on Jack's limp body to get him to sit up. Propping him on the headboard and making sure that he wouldn't slip down was a feat that took some time. But when Hiccup finally did, he was happy to say he felt some triumph for it. It was when Jack was a little bit more stable than a ragdoll that Hiccup began to spoon some little bits of soup into Jack's mouth. Occasionally Jack would close his eyes and Hiccup would have to wake him up and then feed him what just dribbled out of his mouth.

"You shouldn't be able to get sick, right?" He said plainly as Jack chased after a spoonful of soup and frowned as it went back into the bowl. "This is weird. Maybe we should, uh, find someone who can help you. Someone like you. Magical."

"Hey, hey." Jack shook his head, quietly repeating that word for about ten seconds, not realizing in the slightest that that was what he was doing. Finally, he stopped and finished his statement. "You're enough help for me. I'll feel better in no time."

Hiccup smiled a gooey, warm smile and held the bowl with one hand, the other ruffling Jack's tousled wintery hair. "Thanks. A little more soup and then you'll, uh, need to get some rest? Yeah."

"I can't really taste that soup, you know." Jack said, nodding at the bowl with a sniffle. "But it feels good. And the thought counts a whole lot."

With a single huff of laughter, Hiccup leaned close to press a kiss to Jack's forehead.

"Stop!" Jack grumbled. "You'll get sick too."

"Yeah, well, by the end of this you'll know how to take care of me, huh." And with that, a kiss was indeed planted right on a frosty, sickly little forehead.


End file.
